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www.booksfromlithuania.lt
Preface
No catalogue of writers like this can ever be exhaustive. It is even more difficult to provide an overview of one’s
contemporaries, with little or no distance from both the people and the context. Therefore, this guide is only an
attempt to step aside and take a look at Lithuanian literature with the eyes of an outsider.
The introduction provides a historical and social background to the cultural atmosphere and the general situation.
After that comes the list of authors and their books. There was no single formal criterion for selection. Instead, two
less tangible aspects were taken into consideration. First, it was important to choose authors who, in one way or
another, matter to Lithuanians themselves; and not only in terms of official acknowledgement, like literary prizes,
but also as authors who are read, discussed and analysed in schools, universities and the media, or simply by readers.
It turns out that some books have a longer ‘shelf life’ than others. For example, authors like Jurga Ivanauskaitė and
Ričardas Gavelis still maintain a very strong presence in literary circles, almost a decade after they died. The second
aspect that influenced the choice of books and authors was variety. While it would not be difficult to identify the
prevalent tendencies or the most prominent fads of a very short period of time, we have aimed to provide a broader
perspective, to include authors from different generations, with different attitudes and with different voices. We
cannot really expect you to ‘get the whole picture’, as we do not really ‘get it’ ourselves. But we hope that you will be
intrigued.
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Lithuanian
Literature Today
by Gabrielė Gailiūtė
You would expect that in a civilised country like Lithuania, the year should end on 31 December. Well, not for the
literary community. Writers, publishers, critics and readers get no rest until the end of February, when the Vilnius
International Book Fair takes place. Opened by none other than the president, with daily broadcasts on national
radio and television, it seems to be the best starting point to try to present something as fleeting and ephemeral as the
pulse and feel of contemporary Lithuanian literature.
This is the time when most literary prizes are awarded, including the Book of the Year award (which is the only
literary award in Lithuania where all readers are given a vote, along with a professional committee, and is therefore
the most publicised literary event of the year), as well as the most important prizes for book designers, translators and
other professionals. It is also the best time to launch new books, as no ordinary book presentation can hope to gain
the attention of the 60,000 visitors that the Vilnius International Book Fair attracts.
Incidentally, the word ‘International’ in the title is not just a formality. It is regularly visited by foreign authors. And,
rather improbably for such a small country, it usually features a major literary star, like Colleen McCullough, Frank
McCourt, John Irving, David Foenkinos or Frederic Beigbeder, who have all been guests of Lithuanian publishers.
There are always some complaints that the Book Fair is too commercial, too crowded, or just too exhausting, from
those who long for a purer, more elite kind of literary life. (It has actually led to an attempt to create an alternative
Vilnius Book Festival, which took place for the first time in the autumn of 2012, but it is still too early to say how
much this provides an alternative.)
The fact remains that everyone who is anyone in the world of books in Lithuania visits the Book Fair, presenting
their books, commenting on others’ work, or meeting readers at the publisher’s stands. To take 2012 as an example,
the statistics are impressive: 250 publishers and institutions from nine countries participating; 380 separate events, in
11,780 square metres, excluding fair-related events elsewhere in the city; and 60,200 visitors in four days.
But it has not always been like this.
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A historical perspective
To recap history, the independent Republic of Lithuania was occupied by the Soviet Union in 1940, and for five
decades book publishing functioned under the planned economy. This meant that there were five or six publishers,
who published up to 3,000 titles annually (including non-literary publishing, like textbooks, encyclopedias and
gardening manuals or cookery books). But the average print run for a book of fiction was about 24,000 copies.
Literature itself was strictly censored, to avoid any nostalgia for independence, any national feelings, anything
remotely religious, and especially Christian, anything sexual, violent or otherwise unsuitable for the model Soviet
citizen, and any possible dissatisfaction with the status quo. In other words, almost anything that could be seen as
inspiring literary material.
However, writers came up with literary devices to circumvent censorship. The most famous of these, which is
still taking up the time of academic researchers who are trying to understand and explain it, was called ‘Aesopian
language’. The term comes from the writer of the fables, and it presumably implies writing in fables; but this does not
quite explain it. The best way to explain it would be to say that this Aesopian language was obscure. It was a language
in which criticisms of the system were more or less clearly visible to any reader, including the censors. But they were
so devoid of obvious references to real life that no censor could single them out.
Let us leave the academics to puzzle over Aesopian language. Something that is more relevant to this guide was the
preference for poetry. In the times of great novelists such as Charles Dickens and Honoré de Balzac, according to the
laws of Imperial Russia, even to write out a shopping list in the Lithuanian language was illegal. After 1918, literature
began to take great strides, but it was crushed again under Soviet rule. Quite naturally, poetry was stronger, as it
could be both obscure and personal, enabling it to get past all kinds of censorship, and it was distributed more easily
under the various restrictions, thanks to its shorter forms. A book of poetry could be published in tens of thousands
of copies, if it had more or less, and usually less, sincere tributes to communism, communist leaders and communist
propaganda scattered among the genuine poems.
And now?
The readership of poetry has quite naturally dwindled to proportions more appropriate to a free country and a free
market, but the poetry scene remains quite vibrant and well populated. Two major poetry events attract hundreds of
poetry lovers every year, who come to listen to readings and to meet their favourite poets. The Poetry Spring festival
is organised by the Writer’s Union. It was founded at a time when everyone, including free spirits like writers, had
to belong to a trade union, but it now seems a bit outdated and petrified. The Druskininkai Poetic Fall was founded
precisely in opposition to Poetry Spring. Interestingly, many older poets have managed to find a new but similar role
in free society as spokespersons for poetry, even though the conditions for it have changed immensely. Even more
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interestingly, younger poets, of whom there are quite a lot, even though poetry is not commercially viable, often view
their older colleagues as role models and as inspiring examples, and not as relics of the past.
However, the almost 1,000 publishers in present-day Lithuania (that is the official figure, although there are only
four or five big players in the market) make their profits from genres other than poetry. The average print run for
a book of fiction or other bedside reading has come down to approximately 1,500 to 2,000 copies, which is in fact
more fitting for the size of the market. And while the number of titles has increased by a mere one and a half times,
the variety is astounding. Many more serious academic books are published, and all sorts of religious material is
now legal and has found a number of readers. About a quarter of all published books are fiction. For a while, most
of them were translated, and not just from Russian. But numbers of books by local authors have caught up, and are
nearly equal. Any literary fad, be it Dan Brown, Harry Potter or Twilight, appears in Lithuania with little or no delay.
For some reason, Lithuanians are fond of Scandinavian literature, and for equally unknown (or unexplored) reasons,
German literature is giving way to French. It obviously goes without saying that English is the most popular source
language for translated books.
After 1990, one thing was expected to happen but did not. With freedom of speech finally achieved, people believed
that anyone who had written anything that was unpublishable under censorship would finally emerge. No such luck.
It turned out that hardly anyone was writing anything publishable. However, for a very short period of time, writers
felt that they were the heralds of freedom, the voice, the conscience, the spirit of the nation. Once more peaceful times
came, they had to find less prominent and more mundane roles for themselves and their art. Some became dispirited,
and felt forgotten and discarded. Others took up the challenge.
Šerelytė attempting to fictionalise her own life, being born into a family of deportees in Siberia and then returning
to grow up on a kolkhoz; and Sigitas Parulskis devising a story to trace how family memories impact on a modern
character. Leaving aside what is really a long and painful process of reconciliation, let us just briefly mention that
many writers who began their careers under the Soviet regime have obtained a liminal identity, and need to account
for their past and present allegiances, for their own sakes and for other people.
Another way that the past makes its way into literature is through older history. As it was told in Soviet times,
history was a slapdash mixture of naive romanticism and blatant propaganda. Therefore, questions like what it means
to be Lithuanian and where we come from still come back to haunt us. Most are material for historians, who, like the
social scientists mentioned above, have produced several in-depth studies on these questions, and these studies enjoy
an unusual popularity with the general public.
However, history has never really been reflected in literature, and contemporary authors are sometimes tempted
to do so. Several historical novels, some realistic and detailed, some outright fantastic, are published every year; but
none have enjoyed the success of the two volumes of Silva Rerum, written by the art critic Kristina Sabaliauskaitė,
and tracing the story of several generations of a noble family in the Grand Duchy of Lithuania in the 16th and 17th
centuries.
Yes, but what is it all about?
While historical questions are painful and topical, they are not the only literary material. The contemporary social
and cultural situation is a recurrent theme as well. The variations range from fictional and semi-fictional conspiracy
theories, involving strong feelings of discontent with the general political and social atmosphere, to close-ups of
separate socially sensitive groups, like the abandoned children in Vanda Juknaitė’s and Gendrutis Morkūnas’ books.
One particular social reality that has a strong presence in literature is emigration. Considered by some to be a
demographic, economic and social catastrophe, and by others to be the bold exercise of the long-withheld right to
choose where and how to live, the phenomenon itself remains a fact. People are travelling abroad to study, work and
marry, and do not always plan to return. Naturally, among these travellers, some are bound to have literary leanings,
so several years ago, books began to emerge detailing their lives in their new homelands, humorously, philosophically
and tragically. These books almost always attract the attention of readers and critics who are interested in the
phenomenon of emigration, but it is only honest to say that the literary merits of such writings are very unequal.
Interestingly, the theme has become quite popular among first-time writers, like Aleksandra Fomina (who writes
about the United Kingdom), Dalia Staponkutė (Cyprus), and others. Presumably, it provides plenty of stories and
exotic settings, and, most importantly, it gives a fresh feeling of boldly going where no man has gone before, literally
and literarily.
After all these numbers and general remarks, one main question has to be asked. What do Lithuanians write (and
read) about? An easy answer to this question would be to say that they are obsessed with their past. However, we have
to make a long list of excuses and explanations. Ever since the Spring of Nations, the Lithuanians have never had a
real chance to examine themselves and their past. One occupation followed another, with just a couple of decades to
catch their breath, so it is quite understandable that both a questioning of the national identity and the evaluation of
historical traumas and achievements are under way. In fact, several very strong non-fiction books have been written,
such as those by the philosopher Nerija Putinaitė, the psychologist Danutė Gailienė, and the social and political
scientist Ainė Ramonaitė and her team, to mention just a few. They attempt to analyse these issues, based on research
and data, and not just on impressions and memories.
Likewise, innumerable memoirs are being produced, which in turn provoke debate, disputes and replies in other
non-fiction books and memoirs. Communism is officially illegal in Lithuania, but in the broader Western context
there has been no official evaluation or trials for crimes committed under communism, and so the trauma and the
pain are still open wounds in a society that had to suffer under the regime. Literary writers have also tried to add their
voices: with Marius Ivaškevičius deconstructing the life of a famous leader of the postwar freedom fighters; Renata
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The past is prologue, then what?
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Form, genre and reflection
But after all this has been said about the historical situation, it is quite understandable that one of the main themes
for contemporary writers is literature itself. Having missed the natural postwar literary developments in Western
culture, with Socialist Realism forced on the arts as the only acceptable style, do we now try to catch up? Do we skip it
altogether? Do we come up with something completely new? Do we have something interesting to offer: to ourselves,
to our readers, and to the world?
The result of such reflections is prolific experimentation. Poets are trying their hand at writing novels, journalists
and columnists write books, and some writers boldly suggest ‘shooting the narrative’. Like any series of experiments,
these are not always equally successful, but one thing worth mentioning has definitely come out of this. The
prevailing form in contemporary writing is the non-fiction essay. In fact, this is an umbrella term for a variety of
short, stylistically literary, but thematically fictional, semi-fictional and even non-fiction writing. While some critics
feel that this shapeless form has thrived too much and too quickly, obscuring more traditional literary constructions,
it has to be acknowledged that such non-committal writing has helped to bring to the fore some very interesting
authors, like Giedra Radvilavičiūtė. Something that is no less important is that it has caught the attention and the
interest of the reading public.
The novel, as everywhere else in the West, is considered to be the most accessible and respectable genre, and the
most commercially successful. Novellas and short stories are often well written, but they sell poorly, as in other
countries. But for Lithuanians, the novel is really a bit of a sore point. It had to develop basically from scratch, and
it is quite natural for it to suffer some childhood illnesses. The Aesopian language mentioned above, which is still
employed out of habit, has become a disadvantage. Without censorship to play with, this complicated game quite
simply becomes obscure, remote, and even boring. Constructing a plot and developing characters sometimes turns
out to be hard work, for which pure inspiration and talent may not be enough, hence the suggestion to ‘shoot the
narrative’. The novel seems to have matured quite successfully in the last few years, often driven by the younger
generation of authors, but what still seems to be lacking (although it is not missed by more high-brow literati) is
purely entertaining, low-brow, commercial literature. While there have been some attempts at writing mysteries,
thrillers and romances, they hardly ever catch on, and they almost always give way to their foreign counterparts.
Lithuanians in the world
However, there are still some success stories. Ruta Sepetys, a second-generation American Lithuanian, has written a
novel in English about a family deported to Siberia at the beginning of the Soviet occupation. Between Shades of Gray
was originally intended for teenagers and young adults, but it has received critical acclaim and attained commercial
success as a story for all ages, and has been translated into more than 20 languages. While some people with first-
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hand experience of the events described in the book feel that it does not meet their standards of historical accuracy,
Sepetys is a good example of one more aspect of Lithuania and its literature.
Lithuanians sometimes think of their country as a backwater, but geopolitically a more correct description would
be an outpost. On a crossroads between Eastern and Western Europe, over the years it has had a lot of friends,
masters, occupiers and visitors. For example, its capital Vilnius has been home to world-famous Polish-language
authors, like Adam Mickiewicz and Czesław Miłosz. The Baltic coast variously enjoyed and suffered a long-term
German influence, and Thomas Mann’s family had a summer residence in Nida on the Curonian Spit. The house is
now the Thomas Mann Cultural Centre, and its main annual event is the Thomas Mann Festival in July, a glorious
intellectual celebration of European culture.
Likewise, Lithuanians themselves have always been intrepid travellers. When the Soviets invaded, many clever,
bright and energetic people, like Ruta Sepetys’ family, had to flee. Many ended up in the USA, but some went as
far as Australia. Wherever they went, they did not assimilate and disappear, but maintained their national identity,
living in Lithuanian communities and engaging in various cultural activities, like sports or music clubs and religious
groups, but also artists’ circles, radio broadcasts, and even publishing. The works of émigré writers were forbidden
in Lithuania during the years of the occupation, but since then many have been discovered, read, published and
studied. There have even been some cases of people leaving the Soviet Union in scarcely believable ways. The poet
and scholar Tomas Venclova wrote an open letter to the government, saying that life here was untenable for a person
with intellectual interests, and asking for permission to emigrate, and got it. He now teaches at Yale University, and
visits Lithuania several times a year, still continuing to write and publish poems and essays. Another important figure
is Icchokas Meras, who is ethnically Jewish, and therefore was allowed to leave the Soviet Union for Israel. He lives
there now, but still writes only in Lithuanian, and often about Lithuania, and his work is critically acclaimed both in
his homelands and abroad. Many people are fascinated by semiotics, but even specialists do not always know that
one of the first semioticians, Algirdas Julius Greimas, was also Lithuanian, although he wrote in both Lithuanian
and French, and his French works are often better known worldwide. The Canadian writer Antanas Šileika also
comes from a Lithuanian family, and although he writes in English, his novels constantly develop plots about recent
Lithuanian history. It is quite likely that contemporary Lithuanians, who are going abroad to live, either temporarily
or for good, are in fact quite in tune with an old tradition. Therefore, more and more cosmopolitan themes are to be
expected.
As for those who stay here, their books are not unheard-of in other countries. Most poets have some translations,
although often in anthologies or special editions related to poetry events and festivals abroad. For larger-scale
translation, a ground-breaking event was the Frankfurt Book Fair in 2002, where Lithuania was the guest of honour.
That was an occasion to translate some contemporary authors into German; and authors like Jurga Ivanauskaitė
were extremely successful there, and later in Scandinavia and other countries as well. More and more translations
followed, even though the language is small and translators are few. Some are of Lithuanian descent, like Elizabeth
Novickas, who translates classics into English, while others are simply friends, like Cornelius Hell, Pietro U. Dini,
Claudia Sinnig, Guido Michelin and Markus Roduner. With their help, with some interesting things to say and stories
to tell, and with their own unbreakable spirit, Lithuanians are ready to take on the world of books.
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Photo by Algimantas Aleksandravičius
Jeigu (2011)
Ališanka’s latest poetry collection demonstrates many of his already well-known poetic devices: intellectual mind
games, rich cultural references, and philosophical and metaphysical themes. At the same time, the more mature he
becomes the clearer the speaker he becomes. The book is full of hints at personal impressions, travels and childhood
memories, all woven together tightly, along with his usual broken, or newly invented, grammar and punctuation.
In 2012 it won him the Poetry Spring festival Oak Leaf Garland, the most desirable and prestigious poetry prize in
Lithuania.
Ališanka, Eugenijus, Jeigu
Vilnius: Lietuvos rašytojų sąjungos leidykla, 2011, 85 p.
www.rsleidykla.lt
Eugenijus Ališanka
Eugenijus Ališanka (born in 1960) was born into a family of deportees deep in Russia, and did not see Lithuania for
the first two years of his life. Whether coincidentally, subconsciously or on purpose, he has kept that way for most of
his life. It is probably safe to say that Ališanka is the most widely translated Lithuanian poet: he has had more than
ten books published in English, German, Russian, and some rarer languages like Slovenian and Finnish, and almost
every one of his collections has been translated into another language. Ališanka travels extensively, often spending
time on various writers’ residencies abroad, and participating in events and festivals. He is also a prolific translator of
poetry from English and Polish, and an ambitious intellectual thinker, although his more philosophical prose is often
received rather ambiguously. He has written several collections of essays.
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Photo by Algimantas Aleksandravičius
Gintaras Beresnevičius
Paruzija (2005)
Beresnevičius’ first full-length novel is both comic and frightening. It is essentially an apocalyptic tale about the end of
the world, brought about by gods made by man. Several plotlines intermingle, all laced with mythological details and
a glorious pastiche of various cultures. As the story progresses, the more fantastic and surreal, even phantasmagoric,
it all becomes. It is difficult to say whether it is more horrific or satirical. At the same time, it is a poignant reflection of
contemporary Lithuanian society, its gods and godlessness, its frail beliefs and its false idols. Many critics have lauded
the book as ‘the first postmodern Lithuanian novel’ (although such titles are obviously always debatable). Some have
found it too difficult and complicated, because of the amount of obscure references that have the reader reaching
for an encyclopaedia. However, it can be said without doubt that this is one of the best-quality pieces of Lithuanian
literature, and a book that can proudly be presented as an introduction to the Lithuanian psyche for readers abroad.
Beresnevičius, Gintaras, Paruzija
Vilnius: Tyto alba, 2005, 291 p.
www.tytoalba.lt
Gintaras Beresnevičius (1961–2006) was one of the few genuine scholars of old Baltic religion and mythology. Most of
his work is academic research in the field, often pioneering and well regarded by his peers. He taught religious studies
and Lithuanian mythology at various universities, and was a much-loved teacher. However, his work was not limited
to narrow academic research and discussion. He became known very early on as a popular writer of non-fiction,
mostly related to the national identity, its roots and the political situation. These analyses were always based on his
research. He is still remembered as an essayist and a short story writer. Unfortunately, he began writing literature
rather late in his life, which was then cut short by his untimely death. But what he wrote was groundbreaking. His
literary works are both humorous and intellectually complex, almost encyclopaedic. His insights into people and
society are chillingly deep. His work has been translated into several languages, such as Latvian, Croatian, Russian
and English.
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Photo by Algimantas Aleksandravičius
Būtasis nebaigtinis Imparfait (2003)
This bilingual Lithuanian and French collection of poetry (translated by Genovaitė Dručkutė), which is also praised
for its design (by Sigutė Chlebinskaitė), including hand-numbered copies with the author’s signature on each, is a
truly beautiful achievement. The poems are also essentially very beautiful. They play on every level of language,
including phonetics, homonymy, rhyming and graphics: one poem can even be read both ‘vertically’ (stanza by
stanza) and ‘horizontally’ (one line of each stanza). The world in them, as the title says, is ‘imperfect’, unfinished and
ephemeral, but it is even sweeter because of this. Some critics even detect hints at mythology, but these could also be
the author’s love of anything ethnographic, ancient and rural.
Vladas Braziūnas
Braziūnas, Vladas, Būtasis nebaigtinis – Imparfait
Vilnius: Petro ofsetas, 2003, 47 p.
www.petroofsetas.lt
Vladas Braziūnas (born in 1952) wrote his first book of poetry in 1977, but it languished at the publishers for seven
years, because it was deemed ‘artistically and ideologically immature’. However, it immediately received the most
important prize for a poetry debut on its publication in 1983. He has been a prolific poet ever since, publishing a
book almost every year, including essays and poetry for children. Coming from the countryside, he often writes
about the clash between the old rural lifestyle and modern urban ways, and he is a staunch patriot of his region,
having even published a collection of poems in his dialect. He is also a prominent translator of poetry, and a very
active participant in the poetry scene. His hobby is photography, and he often assumes the role of a chronicler of
Lithuanian literary life.
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Photo by Algimantas Aleksandravičius
Išmokau nebūti (2011)
Burokas’ third and latest collection has been described as his most mature one so far, effectively establishing his
personal, authentic and original style, his way of mixing easy, natural language, and a deep, perceptive and stoical
attitude towards being. As in his previous books, critics detect an almost cinematic ability to describe inanimate
objects, to bring them to life and soak them in human emotions and experience. He still maintains his playful attitude
towards culture, making serious and low-brow references on a seemingly random basis. As a master of paradox,
Burokas can both shock and entertain in a single line.
Burokas, Marius, Išmokau nebūti
Vilnius: Tyto alba, 2011, 77 p.
www.tytoalba.lt
Marius Burokas
Marius Burokas (born in 1977) is one of the loudest and brightest voices of the younger generation. Well educated, he
has studied abroad, and he has worked for the local media and in advertising. His first collection of poems appeared
in 1999. He has been described as post-avant-garde. He is either violently against taking any position at all, or else he
seeks to make sense out of the absurdities of the world. His poems vary greatly: some are more personal and lyrical,
others quote films and popular culture. Some contain plots and narratives reminiscent of horror stories or thrillers.
A gifted translator of difficult authors like Charles Bukowski, Burokas welcomes all kinds of global experiences and
foreign influences. He also writes a weekly column for a major news portal about literary events abroad.
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Photo by Algimantas Aleksandravičius
Medaus mėnuo (2011)
Černiauskaitė’s third novel won critical acclaim and was awarded the Jurga Ivanauskaitė Prize. It tells the story of Ada,
a 30-year-old literature PhD student, who cannot concentrate on her work in the town and goes to a small village.
There she is unexpectedly visited by an ex-convict, she allows him to stay the night, and a brief love affair unfolds. It
is an almost Hesse-like conflict between the mind and the heart. Cold, lonely Ada, focused solely on her intellectual
work, discovers a more human, passionate part of herself. The affair is soon over, the ex-convict is back to his old
ways, after an unsuccessful attempt to join a monastery, but Ada is transformed for ever. With a strong, if slightly too
obvious, religious theme, the book is a story about discovering oneself and God.
Černiauskaitė, Laura Sintija, Medaus mėnuo
Vilnius: Lietuvos rašytojų sąjungos leidykla, 2011, 183 p.
www.rsleidykla.lt
Laura Sintija Černiauskaitė
Laura Sintija Černiauskaitė (born in 1976) is the first Lithuanian to receive the European Union Prize for Literature.
Her prose is very feminine, deeply psychological, and even Freudian. She portrays people in difficult and unusual
emotional situations, and watches them disentangling themselves. She often analyses families, and relationships
between men and women. However, in her works, painful and difficult experiences are usually for the best, as they
inspire, or even force, necessary changes, in order to make her characters better people. In this sense, she is a very
optimistic writer, with a strong faith in the human being. She has written three novels and several collections of short
prose, and she is also quite successful as a playwright. Her play Liučė čiuožia has been put on in Lithuania, Russia,
Italy and Scandinavian countries.
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Photo by Algimantas Aleksandravičius
Varna braukia ašarą (2007)
This collection of novellas, Čigriejus’ latest work, continues in a similar vein to his previous ones. Most of the stories
are set in Saločiai, the author’s village, in a region of Lithuania that has bred numerous poets. The stories often
involve children, and a perception of the world through the eyes of children (which is completely out of proportion,
compared to that of grown-ups), their worries and troubles, their sensitivities, raw and naked, and not yet numbed
by life. Other people in the novellas are also small: weak, unimportant, often troubled or sinful, but always kind,
deep down in their hearts. From such a perspective, the world seems to be big and intimidating, but our close
surroundings have a lot of tiny but good and beautiful things in them.
Čigriejus, Henrikas Algis, Varna braukia ašarą
Vilnius: Lietuvos rašytojų sąjungos leidykla, 2007, 183 p.
www.rsleidykla.lt
Henrikas Algis Čigriejus
Henrikas Algis Čigriejus (born in 1933) published his first poems in 1977. He wrote poetry for several decades, sweet,
nostalgic verse about rural life, the beauty of nature and the little spot on the face of the earth that is a human being.
In spite of themes that sound rather old-fashioned to a 21st-century reader, his poetry is truly some of the most
beautiful poetry in Lithuanian literature, in the purest sense of the word. He has never been interested in major issues
or problems, always merely describing the world in a grain of sand, we could say. In the 1990s, quite unexpectedly,
and at a late age, he published his first collection of novellas, and three more followed. While many critics observe
that his prose is as lyrical as his poetry, the novellas, which are very often loosely based on childhood memories or his
later experiences of a long and loving life, are so charged with bitter-sweet nostalgia that they are quite sure to force
a tear out of the more sensitive reader.
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Photo by Algimantas Aleksandravičius
Vilniaus pokeris (1989)
The book tells the story of a person who has lived in Lithuania through most of the 20th century: his childhood in
the independent prewar republic, then the Soviet occupation, freedom-fighting, deportation, and, finally, the years
just before independence. The main character is persecuted by the system almost to the point of destruction, but he
maintains the ability to watch and analyse. This is not so much a novel about resisting the system, as about nameless,
invincible and metaphysical evil in the world in general. It contains dreams and nightmares, visions and wanderings
into the past or into fantasy. It deconstructs both the myths of the Evil Empire, and the myths of patriotism. And
finally, several more characters briefly retell the same story, and it turns out that there is no single truth among
them. When it first appeared, the book was considered shocking, with scenes of sex and violence. Now that effect
is probably diminished, but it still remains one of the most important Lithuanian novels. It is also one of the few
available in English (translated by Elizabeth Novickas).
Ričardas Gavelis
Ričardas Gavelis (1950–2002) is a legendery figure in Lithuanian literature. He studied theoretical physics, and (as
was common in the Soviet Union) was assigned to work on a popular science magazine, where he discovered his
ability to write. He debuted in 1976, and wrote several collections of short stories. But his groundbreaking work, a
novel called Vilniaus pokeris, appeared in 1989, on the brink of independence. It dissects the cruel Soviet system,
and the person who is broken by it. His later novels continue the theme of the split identity of the post-Soviet person,
and another theme that later became more and more prominent was the depiction of the city of Vilnius, in which it
became almost a personification. Interestingly, Gavelis never received any major literary prize during his life, even
though he is undoubtedly the most important and influential literary figure of the 1990s. He still remains the iconic
‘transition writer’ of the early post-Soviet period.
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Gavelis, Ričardas, Vilniaus pokeris
Vilnius: Tyto alba, 2011, 523 p.
www.tytoalba.lt
Selected translations
English: Vilnius poker, tr. by Elizabeth Novickas. Rochester: Open Letter, 2009.
Latvian: Viļņas pokers, tr. by Talrids Rullis. Rīga: Press nams, 1995.
Macedonian: Покер во Вилнус, tr. by Elizabeta Bozhinovska. Skopje: Antolog, 2013.
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Freskos (2012)
The last, posthumously published, book of Sigitas Geda’s poetry came as a surprise, even a shock. It is a collection of
erotic poetry. And not only does it contain mild sensual elements; each poem deals exclusively with the sexual act.
The styles and genres are very different, as are the influences, from crudely humorous folk songs to sophisticated
European poetry. The poems contain very strong language that no one would use in respectable company, and
sometimes they balance on the edge of parody or satire. However, critics observe that it is not just an empty play of
obscenities: it really is a literary work, a study of expression. To what point is it possible to write explicitly, so that it
still remains poetry, and not pornography? Some say that it goes even deeper, both testing the limits of Lithuanian
erotic language, and extending the boundaries of how sexuality is perceived in Lithuanian culture, ridding it of
shyness and guilt, and boldly singing its joys and pleasures..
Sigitas Geda
Geda, Sigitas, Freskos
Vilnius: Lietuvos rašytojų sąjungos leidykla, 2012, 119 p.
www.rsleidykla.lt
Sigitas Geda (1943–2008) was one of the most prolific Lithuanian poets, and he still remains an important literary
idol. He debuted in 1966, and published over 50 collections of poetry for children and adults, librettos, screenplays,
and a few books of diaries and essays. In spite of being a regularly published poet, he often found himself in trouble
for antagonising the Soviet regime, even to the point of losing his job. He was an active participant in the Sąjūdis
movement that led to independence, holding the position of secretary of the Lithuanian Writers’ Union at the time.
He received all the main state awards for his work and political involvement, including the Order of Gediminas and
the National Prize. His poetry is very life-affirming, it often concerns nature and the harmonious life of people in it.
He was also a very prolific translator, never shunning difficult work, including translating the Quran. His own poetry
has been translated into English, German, Norwegian and Polish.
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Ragana ir lietus (1993)
The book that was later to be translated into six languages caused a real stir of discontent when it first came out. The
still-prudish post-Soviet society found it too daring, in terms of nudity and sexuality. It contains three main plotlines.
In the first, a young woman tells her analyst about her love and passion for a celibate Catholic priest. The second is a
story of a medieval witch who is locked in a dungeon. The third tells of Mary Magdalene and her love for Jesus Christ.
The stories are linked thematically, as a woman’s search for God through love and passion, her place in God, and her
‘right’ to God’s grace, no less than a priest’s or a monk’s. Though decried as anti-Christian and pornographic when
it first appeared, the book is in fact a very deep and thorough reflection on religion and its understanding of love.
Ivanauskaitė, Jurga, Ragana ir lietus
Vilnius: Tyto alba, 2012, 351 p.
www.tytoalba.lt
Jurga Ivanauskaitė
Jurga Ivanauskaitė (1961–2007) remains the most loved Lithuanian writer, in spite of her untimely death. A graphic
artist by training, she maintained her double vocation throughout her life, working in various fields in the visual arts,
as well as writing. She debuted with the short story collection Pakalnučių metai in 1985, which became the book
for a whole generation, and still has a cult following. She first visited India and studied Tibetan Buddhism in 1994,
which led to an important period in her work, during which she wrote her Tibetan trilogy. After that, she wrote
two novels focusing more on Lithuanian realities and often painful social issues, and started writing poetry. Her
last book of poems was published just days before her death, even though a few more smaller pieces were published
posthumously. One of her last works was a script for a film based on her earlier novels, and in 2011 a film based on
her novel Miegančių drugelių tvirtovė came out. Still sorely missed by her readers and friends, Jurga Ivanauskaitė left
behind a loyal readership, serious critical and academic interest, and a strong influence over literature and social life
in Lithuania.
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Selected translations
Croat: Vještica i kiša, tr. by Loreta Vasilij. Zagreb: Profil international, 2003.
Czech: Čarodĕjnice a dešt’, tr. by Gabriela Šroubková. Praha: Mezera, 2006.
Estonian: Noid ja vihm, tr. by Mihkel Loodus. Tallinn: Olion, 1997.
German: Die Regenhexe, tr. by Markus Roduner. Munchen: Deutscher Taschenbuch Verlag, 2004.
Italian: La strega a la pioggia, tr. by Pietro U. Dini. Novi Ligure: Edizioni Joker, 2013.
Latvian: Ragana un lietus, tr. by Talrids Rullis. Riga: Press nams, 1994.
Swedish: Haxan och regnet, tr. by Jonas Öhman. Stockholm: Tranan, 2005.
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Marius Ivaškevičius
Artimas miestas (2005)
For once, Ivaškevičius abandoned his exploration of the Lithuanian identity, and instead wrote a play based on a story
he found in the crime pages of a Copenhagen newspaper. A Danish family lives in Malmö, and sees Copenhagen
across the bay outside their window. The husband leaves to visit it every weekend, and the wife is expected to stay at
home. When a bridge across the bay is built, the woman also goes to Copenhagen, to discover a different life there.
When the time comes to go home, she is unable to choose one of her lives, either her life in Malmö or her life in
Copenhagen, and attempts to choose both. Produced in various theatres in Lithuania and in many other countries,
Artimas miestas gives a deep insight into the psyches of people today, to whom an expanding world presents not too
few, but too many opportunities.
Ivaškevičius, Marius, Artimas miestas
Vilnius: Apostrofa, Teatro ir kino informacijos ir edukacijos centras, 2005, 118 p.
www.apostrofa.lt
Selected translations
English: Artimas miestas = Close city, English version by Edward Buffalo Bromberg; after a literal translation by Laima Sruoginis.
Vilnius: Apostrofa / Teatro ir kino informacijos ir edukacijos centras, 2005.
Marius Ivaškevičius (born in 1973), who once described himself as belonging to the ‘found generation’, effectively
rose to the challenge of being a young writer in a young country, and has succeeded. Reasonably optimistic about the
contemporary situation of Lithuania, he can safely be called the hardest-working writer, journalist, playwright and
theatre and film director. He debuted in 1998 with a short story collection, but his most scandalous book was his first
novel, Žali, in which he told the story of a famous leader of the freedom-fighters, portraying him as less heroic and
more human than was usual for the time. In spite of the discontent that the book provoked, Ivaškevičius continues
to explore and question various issues of the national identity and historical episodes, both in his books and in his
plays, which have probably brought him even more success, at home and abroad. He was less successful as a director
of his own plays. He has also become a filmmaker. Having produced two documentaries, he is working on a third.
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Andrius Jakučiūnas
Lalagė (2011)
Generically described as a ‘crown of short stories’, the book begins with page 121. And this is no technical fault. The
narrator seems to be the author’s alter ego; the idea is reinforced by the author’s own portrait on the cover (without
the face, but with his trademark neckerchief). The space is limited to a single room, which may or may not exist in the
narrator’s imagination. The narrator seems to be both writing the story and participating in it at the same time. The
main character in the story is a female servant, whose name does not really matter, but she might be called Lalagė.
She seems to be in control of everything, but it is hard to tell how or why.
While many reviewers and critics have described the book as a difficult, even tortuous read, all agree that it is very
strictly controlled and skilful writing. It is an in-depth study of the process of writing and literary creation in general.
Not many confess to be fans of the book, and some even say that it is too demanding, but everyone agrees that it is a
true achievement for Lithuanian literature. Some even claim that it is not related to the Lithuanian literary tradition
at all, which, in this case at least, is probably a compliment.
Jakučiūnas, Andrius, Lalagė
Vilnius: Tyto alba, 2011, 233 p.
www.tytoalba.lt
Andrius Jakučiūnas (born in 1976) is probably the brightest rising star in contemporary high-brow Lithuanian
literature. A Classical scholar, he worked as a teacher, which he later gave up for a professional writer’s career, and
debuted in 1999, only a year after graduating from university, with the short story collection Sokrato gyvenimas arba
mirtis. That was followed by two novels, Servijaus Galo užrašai (2005) and Tėvynė (2007), but his greatest literary
achievement to date is Lalagė (2011). His prose is stylish, heavy and difficult, written in long, clumsy sentences.
His narratives are fragmented, and his stories almost always show his Classical background and his true erudition.
Thematically, his writing is two-fold. There is a very strong element of literary self-reflection, and even hermetics,
but his writing is also very social, discussing various aspects of contemporary life on a very deep level. As a fulltime writer, Jakučiūnas, who has won numerous literary awards over the last few years, has also become quite an
outspoken public figure, often writing for the media on cultural, social and even political topics.
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Antanas A. Jonynas
Paskutinės dienos Itakėje (2007)
Two acclaimed artists, winners of the National Prize, did what each loves best. Mikalojus Povilas Vilutis made wild,
anarchic pictures; and Antanas A. Jonynas tried his jazzy hand at writing a heroic crown of sonnets. Without knowing
what the other was doing, they both covered similar themes: maturity as a person and as an artist, mild disillusion,
self-irony, gentle mockery, wistful humour, stylistic garishness, and even kitsch. When put together, this book by two
old friends and admirers of each other’s work is not simply an illustrated book of poetry, but a true, even if accidental,
collaboration and artistic partnership. The two artistic outlooks are similar enough to belong next to each other, but
they are also different enough to produce unexpected counterpoints and complement each other. Besides being a
beautiful, colourful, vibrant book, this is also a rare example of how much fun Lithuanian poetry can be.
Jonynas, Antanas A., Paskutinės dienos Itakėje
Vilnius: Tyto alba, 2007, 39 p.
www.tytoalba.lt
Antanas A. Jonynas (born in 1953) is one of the best-known Lithuanian poets. He debuted in 1977, and since then
he has published a collection of poems approximately every three years. In trying to describe his poetry, most critics
employ musical metaphors, and often mention jazz. His style is very dynamic, with broken rhythms and hurried
punctuation. Many have compared his work to the poetry of beatniks; but it is often noted that he is less socially
conscious and more of an individualist, concerned with inner presences and the stirrings of a person, and related to
the lost generation in his wistfulness and longing, doubt and hesitation. Jonynas is also one of the best translators of
poetry in Lithuania, and has translated Faust by Goethe. He is also a very active participant in the poetry scene; no
literary festival could be imagined without him. He is known for his friendly and even paternal attitude towards his
younger colleagues, and at the moment he is even the chairperson of the Lithuanian Writers’ Union.
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Tariamas iš tamsos (2007)
This book is essentially a collection of interviews with children of various ages who live difficult lives. They are
mentally or physically disabled, delinquent, or parentless. In an interview, the author confessed that it took her ten
years to find this approach. She had wanted to write about what she saw in her social work, but could not find the way
to do it. So she decided to allow the children to speak for themselves. And they are a surprise, both to the author and
the reader. They are asked difficult, challenging questions, but they are not shy about answering. And their answers
are both unexpectedly deep and wise, but also incredibly hopeful and life-affirming. While the idea could seem to
some tastes rather sentimental, the book is a worthy achievement in a decade of a worthy life.
Juknaitė, Vanda, Tariamas iš tamsos
Vilnius: Lietuvos rašytojų sąjungos leidykla, 2012, 175 p.
www.rsleidykla.lt
Vanda Juknaitė
Selected translations
Hebrew: Tariamas iš tamsos, tr. by Ramat HaSharon: Asia Publishers, 2011.
Polish: Słowa w ciemnośi. Rozmowy z dziećmi, tr. by Zuzanna Mrozikowa, Kielce: Wydawnictwo pedagogiczne ZNP, 2013.
Vanda Juknaitė (born in 1949) debuted in 1983. She was not particularly prolific as a fiction writer: one collection
of short stories and two novels, and not very long at that. In her fiction, she used to show clear signs of an unusual
sensitivity to human sadness, pain and misery, and was particularly interested in examining the situation of women at
various stages in their lives. However, in the first decade of independence, she took a much more hands-on approach
in doing her part for the new state and society, and became a very active worker and organiser of various social
projects, first and foremost with street children. This inspired her to write again, but in a different way. Her later
books are essays and interviews about the social reality and its various tender spots. However, as they are written by
a true writer, they also have literary merit.
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Kurčiam asiliukui (2011)
The title of the book comes from a line from Horace: sardo asello fabellam narrare (to tell a tale to a deaf donkey).
This is how the poet feels about poetry today: there are not many readers or listeners, and poets’ beautiful words often
fall on deaf ears. But, the poet said once in an interview, that is not all the title means. Many important talks and
discussions fall on deaf ears, hindered by misunderstandings and misinterpretations, but we still have to talk about
important things, even to deaf donkeys.
The book, which was selected as the Most Creative Book of the Year by the Institute of Lithuanian Literature and
Folklore, is Kajokas at his best: pure, minimalist, quiet, to the point of writing one poem only in elipsis punctuation
marks. And always about tiny, minute and beautiful things that are nonetheless extremely important.
donaldas kajokas
Kajokas, Donaldas, Kurčiam asiliukui
Vilnius: Lietuvos rašytojų sąjungos leidykla, 2011, 157 p.
www.rsleidykla.lt
Donaldas Kajokas (born in 1953) is a gymnastics coach by training, but for many years his main role has been
at Nemunas, the most important cultural magazine in Kaunas, where he works as the literary editor. He debuted
in 1980, and has published 14 books. Most of them are poetry, they are some of the most beautiful poems that
were ever written in Lithuanian: pure, precise, serene and heartbreaking. For a very long time, Kajokas has been
interested in eastern religions and philosophy, mostly Buddhism, and that has had a very strong influence on his
work. He is a true bard of the beauty and the symmetry of the world and its every detail. Over the last few years, he
has begun writing short prose and essays as well, which often appear in the cultural press, and have been published
in three books. His only novel appeared in 2007. He has also collaborated with Romualdas Rakauskas, a likeminded photographer, on a photography book with poetic commentaries (or a poetry book with photographic
illustrations). He is one of the most translated Lithuanian poets.
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Kiškis Morkus didysis (2008)
Morkus the little rabbit decides that he does not like his family’s eating habits, and would prefer to eat like the bears.
So he changes to a diet of honey and sweets. Naturally, he begins to put on weight. But one day he meets a girlrabbit, who suggests that he eats healthier food and goes to a dance with her. Good food and exercise, and of course
love, help Morkus to be healthier and happier. This simple story, with lessons about a healthy lifestyle, will-power,
friendship and love, and with lots of jokes and witty illustrations, was an instant success with Lithuanian children,
and was voted Children’s Book of the Year in 2009. It is already available in other languages, like Latvian and Spanish,
and the story has also been turned into a musical.
Kasparavičius, Kęstutis, Kiškis Morkus didysis
Vilnius: Nieko rimto, 2008, 54 p.
www.niekorimto.lt
Kęstutis Kasparavičius
Kęstutis Kasparavičius (born in 1954) attended a school for musically gifted children, at which they are generally
prepared for careers in music. But by the time he graduated, he decided that drawing and painting were more for
him, so he went on to study design at Vilnius Academy of Art. He worked as a book illustrator for a long time, and
won numerous international awards, including Illustrator of the Year at the Bologna Book Fair in 1993. For many
years, all of his work was with foreign publishers, so when he first started writing his own books, they appeared in
Chinese even before they appeared in Lithuanian. Nowadays he is a writer and illustrator whose name is synonymous
with childhood. It also helps that he is a personality: he is warm, friendly, children-loving, and always eager to engage
children in activities and games. He is by far the most popular guest in the Children’s Section of the Vilnius Book Fair,
and is frequently voted their favourite writer.
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Selected translations
Croatian: Zec Mrkvus Veliki, tr. by Mirjana Bračko. Zagreb: Ibis grafika d.o.o., 2013.
Latvian: Zaķis Lielais Burkāns, tr. by Daina Avotina. Rīga: Zvaigzne ABC, 2010.
Polish: Marchewiusz Wielki, tr. by Alina Kuzborska. Kalisz: Martel, 2010.
Portuguese (Brazil): Cenourinus, o Grande, tr. by Fabio Weintraub. Mexico: FCE, Fondo de cultura economica, 2011.
Portuguese(Portugal): Cenourius, o Grande, tr. by Golgona Anghel. Mexico: FCE, Fondo de cultura economica, 2011.
Russian: Заяц Моркус Великий, tr. by Александра Василькова. Москва: Мир и Образование, 2013.
Spanish: Zanaforius el Grande, tr. by Margarita Santos Cuesta. Mexico: FCE, 2011.
Ukrainian: Заєць Морквус Великий, tr. by Оляна Рута. Тернопіль: Навчальна книга – Богдан, 2011.
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Žalčio žvilgsnis (1981)
Saulius Tomas Kondrotas
Published in several languages, the novel tells the story of a family in Lithuania at the end of the 19th century.
However, the plot is non-linear and otherwise rather tangled. Realistic events mingle with grotesque ethnographic
scenes, myths and visions, and everything has something of the absurd to it. While the plot is based on a real story,
the author is more interested in the inner workings of a person’s mind, his mythological subconscious, and his fate.
The author himself described the book as a study of love, its various forms and stages. But it is also possible to
describe it as a study of a person’s struggle against his inner demons, for want of a better word.
Kondrotas, Saulius Tomas, Žalčio žvilgsnis
Vilnius: Vaga, 2006, 262 p.
www.vaga.lt
Selected translations
Catalan: Els ulls de la serp, tr. by Júlia Ferrer and Miquel-Lluis Muntane from French. Barcelona: Columna, 1992.
Danish: Slangens skygge, tr. by Mette Kruse. Kobenhavn: Rosinante, 1993.
Dutch: De schaduw van de slang, tr. by Ellen Beek. Amsterdam: Meulenhoff, 1994.
French: L’ombre du serpent, tr. by Ugnė Karvelis. Paris: Albin Michel, 1991.
German: Der Schlangenblick, tr. by Irene Brewing. Graz: Arcadia, 1990.
Greek: Η σκια του φιδιου, tr. by Παλλαντιου Ληδα from French. Athens: Ψυχογιός, 1996.
Saulius Tomas Kondrotas (born in 1953) left the Soviet Union in its last years and moved to the West, firstly to
Germany and the Czech Republic, where he worked for Radio Free Europe, and later to the USA. A historian by
education, he began writing after university, and published his first collection of novellas in 1977. With a reputation
as a difficult writer, he often explores Freudian and Jungian themes, and especially the mythological world-view. His
plots often border on the absurd, but his prose is very rich and beautiful. He has also written a film screenplay, and
since emigrating he has stopped writing and has worked as a photographer instead.
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Tūla (1993)
Tūla (1993) is every Lithuanian art student’s favourite book. Roaming through the old streets of Soviet Vilnius, the
nameless narrator drinks, wastes time, and remembers the week he spent with Tūla, a girl he was hopelessly in love
with and then lost. The memory is the only thing that really matters in the otherwise pointless, dreary and boozesoaked life of the narrator, who is in fact a literary type in his own right, a ‘vagabond intellectual of Soviet society’, as
a critic once called him. Thus, the novel is three-fold. It is a story of star-crossed lovers, and unattainable, impossible,
and, in a way incredible, imagined love. Tūla herself does not have a single line of speech in the whole book. It is a
love song for Vilnius, seen through the soft focus of bleary drunken eyes. It is also a valid social commentary on the
late Soviet years, and the situation of a well-educated, creative person who is at odds with the regime, and thus has
no place in society.
Jurgis Kunčinas
Kunčinas, Jurgis, Tūla
Vilnius: Lietuvos rašytojų sąjungos leidykla, 2013, 256 p.
www.rsleidykla.lt
Selected translations
Polish: Tula, tr. by Alicja Rybałko. Sejny: Pogranicze, 2002.
Russian: Туула; Менестрели в пальто макси, tr. by Е. Йонайтене, Д. Кыйв. Санкт Петербург: Издательство Ивана Лимбаха, 2008.
Swedish: Tula, tr. by Jonas Öhman Västerås: Författarhuset, 2005.
Jurgis Kunčinas (1947–2002) is still one of the most popular Lithuanian writers. Very prolific, he wrote mostly halffictionalised autobiographical stories, some novel-length, some shorter. He also published several books of poetry
(including poetry for children), and a few collections of non-fiction essays. He was a very proficient translator from
German. In life and in work, he was known for his ability to sense beauty in the mundane, and even in dirtiness,
and for his humour, sometimes bitter-sweet, but often side-splitting, which is rare in Lithuanian literature. He is also
known and admired for his penchant for describing well-known places and cityscapes (usually of Vilnius, but also
of his native Alytus), and for transforming them into something intrinsically romantic and beautiful. Kunčinas is
also one of the most widely translated Lithuanian authors: his works are available in Polish, Russian, Swedish and
German. His often drunken vagabond characters invoke comparisons with Charles Bukowski and beatnik literature.
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Ornamentas (2002)
Also published in German, Ornamentas tells the story of GinTarasas Bernšteinas, an amber artist, who accidentally
swallows a piece of jewellery, and his teeth begin spawning precious stones. With the help of his dentist and her
husband, he begins selling them, hoping to become rich, but it turns out that the couple are taking advantage of him
and are using him for their own ends. The novel is a pastiche of absurd comedy, mystery, fantasy and thriller genres,
but also of chants, homilies, scientific articles and other stylistic deviations. This generic mix is mirrored by messy,
often perverse, relationships between the characters, their family and others. However, in spite of being shocking
and often entertaining, the novel also has intellectual and even snobbish ambitions, and critics detect in it an ‘anticlassicist’ stance towards the Lithuanian literary tradition, and towards literature in general.
Herkus Kunčius
Kunčius, Herkus, Ornamentas
Vilnius: Charibdė, 2002, 211 p.
www.charibde.lt
Selected translations
German: Ornament, tr. by Mala Vikaite. Leipzig: Erata, 2005.
Herkus Kunčius (born in 1965) is one of the most prolific Lithuanian writers, publishing a book or a play every year
since his debut in 1998. His work, novels, essays and plays, is marked by postmodernist features and a scornful irony
towards the consumer society and its fake and superficial values. He often gives frank descriptions of bodies and
bodily functions, and he is never afraid of blasphemy or indecency. His writing has been described as a ‘carnival’,
and it clearly contains shock value, cruelty and nihilism. He is one of the few Lithuanian playwrights whose work is
frequently put on in major theatres, and he has won numerous awards for them. His fiction is less acclaimed, but it
always attracts the attention of serious critics.
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Vytautas V. Landsbergis
Arklio Dominyko meilė (2004)
Dominykas the Horse is one of the many anthropomorphised animals that inhabit the world of Vytautas V.
Landsbergis’ books, along with Zita the Little Mouse, and Eugenijus the Moose. This book, which won the IBBY
award in 2004, was adapted for the theatre, and at the moment it is in the process of being turned into an opera.
Dominykas the Horse falls in love with a pretty but rather spoilt cornflower. When the autumn comes, he hides his
cornflower under a rock to protect it from the coming frosts, and travels to far away Africa, where he makes a lot of
interesting new friends. Finally, he reaches a huge field of cornflowers, from which his beloved comes. However, as
the spring approaches, Dominykas goes back, because his love is about to appear from under the rock again. When
she reappears, he gives her the most beautiful name he can think of, Svajonė, which means Dream.
Landsbergis, Vytautas V., Arklio Dominyko meilė
Vilnius: Nieko rimto, 2004, 142 p.
www.niekorimto.lt
Selected translations
Latvian: Zirga Dominika mīlestība; Ābolu pasakas, tr. by Jānis Elsbergs. Rīga: Liels un mazs, 2012.
Swedish: Dominic – den förälskade hästen, tr. by Anna Harrison. Stockholm: Trasten, 2006.
Ukrainian: Любов коня Домiнiкаса, tr. by Дмитра Чередниченка. Київ: Грані-Т, 2011.
Vytautas V. Landsbergis (born in 1962) is a sort of Jack-of-all-trades, a filmmaker, musician and theatre director.
However, his fame rests on his books for children. His father, Vytautas Landsbergis, is probably the most important
political figure in modern Lithuanian independence, but in fact he comes from a very educated and very musical
family. Both his parents are professional pianists and long-time teachers of music. Landsbergis, who is himself a
father of five, indulges little in political activities, but his books for children are loved by parents, because they are so
thoughtful and educational. They are loved by children too, because they are such fun and so entertaining. Many of
his stories have been adapted with great success for children’s theatres, and, along with Kęstutis Kasparavičius, he is
one of the regular contestants in the Book of the Year award.
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50 eilėraščių (1999)
This is a unique book, and a curiosity of Lithuanian publishing: two great poets (dare we say the greatest of their
generation?) who are also close personal friends have produced a book together. Sigitas Parulskis selected 50 of his
favourite poems by Aidas Marčėnas, and Marčėnas did the same for Parulskis. Each also wrote an introduction for
the other. Each put his photograph on opposite covers. The two poets have a lot in common: both love language
games, intertextuality and pastiche. They also have their differences: Marčėnas is more joyful and serene, whereas
Parulskis has a bleaker, more depressing outlook. Thus, they complement and contradict each other, and the book
is often mentioned as one of the most ingenious projects in Lithuania, both as a publishing trick and a literary feat.
Marčėnas, Aidas; Parulskis, Sigitas, 50 eilėraščių
Vilnius: Baltos lankos, 1999, 96, 68 p.
www.baltoslankos.lt
Aidas Marčėnas
Aidas Marčėnas (born in 1960) is one of the most productive Lithuanian poets, the author of 12 collections of
poetry. He stands out from his own generation and from younger poets for the attention he pays to form, favouring
traditional rhymes and metres, and experimenting with exotic genres like the Japanese tanka. The rhythmical sound
of his poems has made him one of the most popular poets to write music for, usually by bards and folk singers.
Marčėnas is also very fond of postmodernist games in his poetry, and in his later collections he often provides
commentaries on how his poetry should be understood. In addition to his poetry, he is considered to be one of the
most perceptive literary critics, and his reviews, along with his short essays and interviews, have been published
as a book entitled Būtieji kartiniai (2008). All this is without any formal literary training. Marčėnas briefly studied
television production, but did not graduate, and for a while he made a living doing all kinds of labouring jobs,
including firefighting.
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Photo by Algimantas Aleksandravičius
Kukučio baladės (1977)
Marcelijus Martinaitis
Martinaitis’ fifth book is his most famous. It has even developed a cult following. It is not entirely clear whether
Kukutis is a name, a surname, or a nickname, but Kukutis is a character, even a type, a ‘little person’. With his rural
mindset, he is constantly confused by the way the old rural lifestyle keeps running into problems when faced with
the new, modern conditions. In some poems, the criticism of the regime is blatantly obvious; and the Kukutis poems
are often cited as the best and most successful examples of Aesopian language. However, like all true art, Kukutis has
stood the test of time, and still has much to offer the contemporary reader, who may know very little about the social
and political context in which the poems were written. The poems are still extremely popular for academic analyses.
Martinaitis, Marcelijus, Kukučio baladės
Vilnius: Vaga, 2012, 155 p.
www.vaga.lt
Selected translations
English: The Ballads of Kukutis, translated and introduced by Laima Vincė. Todmorden: Arc Publications, 2011.
French: Passerelle de nuages, traduit du lithuanien par Ugné Karvelis.Vénissieux: Collection Noces, 1997.
Norwegian: Kokotis ballader og andre dikt, tr. by Abrahamsen Alma Ločerytė Dale. Oslo: Dreyer, 1987.
Russian: Баллады Кукутиса = Kukučio baladės, перевод с литовского Георгия Ефремова, Москва: BALTRUS, 2003.
Swedish: Kokotis ballader, tr. by J. Kronbergs, H.D. Rinholm. Halmstad: Fripress Bokförl, 1985.
Marcelijus Martinaitis (1936–2013) had a long and inspiring career. He debuted as a poet in 1962, and was apparently
the only one of his generation who avoided pandering to the Soviet regime in his first book. He somehow managed to
always oppose the regime, often in ways that were much more direct and obvious than anyone had thought possible.
But at the same time, he avoided serious persecution and humiliation, and was regularly published. He was even
a member of the parliament that in 1991 declared Lithuania independent, and was a very important public figure
at the time. He was rare among poets of the older generation in adapting well to the new conditions, and since
independence he continued to write critically acclaimed poetry. He published a collection of essays, and a memoir
which was very popular and was voted Book of the Year. He also won the National Prize, and remains one of the
most widely translated Lithuanian poets, with poems published in 14 languages, including Russian, English, Swedish
and French.
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Lygiosios trunka akimirką (1963)
Photo by Algimantas Žižiūnas
This is probably the most famous of Meras’ books, and it has already been through three editions. The setting is
the Vilnius ghetto during the Nazi occupation. At the centre of the story is a game of chess, played by a Nazi called
Šogeris, and a Jew, the young and talented Izaokas. There are lives at stake. If Izaokas loses, the Nazis will kill the
children of the ghetto. And if he wins, only he will die. The book is divided into chapters, according to the chess
pieces and the moves in the game. But the main conflict is obviously the moral dilemma. Izaokas’ father Abraomas,
echoing the Bible, has raised his seven children well. Some things are more important than life itself. He is ready to
sacrifice his youngest son for them. Abraomas’ role is to counter the dehumanised, brutal cruelty of the Nazis. The
novel accepts no compromise: you win or you lose, there is no grey area. Shocking, cruel and painful, the book still
tells a story about the majesty of being human, and about rising above evil.
Meras, Icchokas, Lygiosios trunka akimirką
Vilnius: Baltos lankos, 2006, 190 p.
www.baltoslankos.lt
Icchokas Meras
Icchokas Meras (born in 1934) comes from a Lithuanian Jewish family that lived in the small town of Kelmė in
western Lithuania. His parents were murdered during the Holocaust when he was a child, and he was hidden and
raised by a local Lithuanian family. This experience, of both extreme cruelty and extreme kindness, marked all his
later life and work. He published his first collection of short stories in 1960, and he wrote several screenplays for
films. In 1972, he emigrated to Israel, in protest against the regime. However, he has always continued to write
only in Lithuanian. The Holocaust and Jewish themes consistently recur throughout his books, which have been
translated into many languages and have been awarded prizes in both of his homelands and abroad. His writing
celebrates abstract humanism, it is very controlled, the characters are symbolic, the situations are carefully modelled,
and various literary devices are used, but always with a clear purpose in mind.
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Selected translations
English: Stalemate, tr. by Jonas Zdanys. New York: Other Press, 2005.
French: La partie n’est jamais nulle, tr. from Russian by Dmitri Sesemann. Paris: Stock, 2003.
German: Remis für Sekunden, tr. by Irene Brewing. Berlin: Aufbau Taschenbuch Verl., 2001.
Hungarian: Döntetlen, egy pillanatig, Budapest: Magvető, 1968.
Italian: Scacco perpetuo, tr. by Aušra Povilavičiūtė and Vanna Vogelmann. Firenze: La Giuntina, 2007.
Polish: Gra o życie, tr. by Anastazja and Zygmunt Stoberscy. Warszawa: Państwowy Instytut Wydawniczy, 1968.
Russian: На чем держится мир; Вечный шах, tr. by Феликс Дектор; Tверь: Россия-Великобритания, 1994.
Полнолуние, tr. by Феликс Дектор. Москва: Текст, 2000.
Spanish: Tablas por segundos, tr. by Macarena González. Barcelona: RBA, 2004.
Turkish: Oyun asla berabere bitmez, tr. by Aykut Derman. İstanbul: Om Yayinevi, 2002.
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Photo by Vladas Braziūnas
Iš nuomšiko gyvenimo (2010)
Morkūnas’ last book has a strange title. The word nuomšikas is not even in the dictionary. It refers to a child who
can be lent out. Basically, children from children’s homes are sent to work for money, which they do not see, as it all
goes to the children’s home to pay for their upkeep. It is the idea of the Experimental Home, in which the children
are ‘prepared for life’. Naturally, the story contains quite a lot of sad and even tragic moments, but it also has a lot of
humour, adventure, kindness, and of course a happy ending. It teaches children about important things: having and
not having a family, belonging, and finding your own way in the world. The book was voted Book of the Year for
adolescents, and won the IBBY award.
Morkūnas, Gendrutis, Iš nuomšiko gyvenimo
Vilnius: Nieko rimto, 2012, 155 p.
www.niekorimto.lt
Gendrutis Morkūnas
Gendrutis Morkūnas (1960–2009) was a highly qualified nuclear safety specialist for most of his life. However, all
of a sudden in 2005, he published a book for children, a humorous story about a strange animal that is half-dog and
half-cat. The book was an instant success, it won major children’s literature prizes, and announced the beginning of
a new career. Although his career was cut short by his untimely death, it was still very prolific. In his few years as a
writer, Morkūnas published five books for children and young adults, and two essay collections for grown-ups were
published posthumously. He had a crystal-clear and witty style, he tried his hand at quite different genres and themes,
and, most importantly, he was described unanimously as an extremely ethical writer. His stories teach us quite clearly
about right and wrong, and they have all the compassion that more moralising storytellers sometimes lack.
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Photo by Algimantas Aleksandravičius
Visi laiškai – žirafos (2012)
For one year, Kęstutis Navakas and his real-life partner Akvilė Žilionytė wrote letters to each other, and published
them in a cultural weekly. Put together in a book, the letters are proudly called ‘a novel’. This is not like any other
novel you have seen before. It tells a story, several in fact, and most of them are absolutely real; but that is beside
the point. It is first and foremost a stylistic literary experiment, pushing at the boundaries, and more often than not
crossing into the surreal. The letters discuss everything, from everyday subjects to the most sophisticated matters.
They contain plenty of cultural references and allusions, their impressions of films, paintings and books, and silly
stories that happen at home or in the street. This funny and perceptive, but most of all surprising and unexpected
book was immediately received with enthusiasm by critics and literary experts.
Kęstutis Navakas
Navakas, Kęstutis; Žilionytė Akvilė, Visi laiškai – žirafos
Vilnius: Vaga, 2012, 147 p.
www.vaga.lt
Kęstutis Navakas (born in 1964) is one of the most visible Lithuanian poets. He grew up in Kaunas, which figures in
his work as his beloved city, and he has been a very active participant in the city’s cultural life. Besides writing for the
cultural press, Navakas opened his own bookshop, which was one of the first private initiatives to organise literary
events. He has also worked for television as a book reviewer, and has translated quite a lot of poetry from German
and English. His own writing is marked by a very playful attitude towards language. He debuted as a poet, and has
published five collections of poetry, but he later also started writing essays. His writing is elegant, playful, erotic, and
full of joie de vivre, with slightly decadent overtones. For him, no word has a single fixed meaning; he associates
freely, even phonetically, and frequently uses quotes and references to spice up his writing. ‘I am an adventurer,’ he
once said in an interview, perfectly characterising both his personality and his work.
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Photo by Algimantas Aleksandravičius
Murmanti siena (2008)
The novel tells the story of four generations of Lithuanians, and effectively becomes the story of 20th-century
Lithuania. The characters get involved with the communists, the Nazis, the Holocaust, the freedom fighters, and
independence. They are also involved in their own lives: love, relationships, family, the past, the town, the city, the
Church ... The ‘murmuring wall’ of the title is both a real wall standing on the family’s homestead, and also a central
metaphor for 20th-century history. It is all about either isolating the frightening evils that hide behind it, or fencing
yourself off for safety and support.
Sigitas Parulskis
Parulskis, Sigitas, Murmanti siena
Vilnius: Baltos lankos, 2009, 373 p.
www.baltoslankos.lt
Selected translations
Hungarian: Mormogó fal, tr. by Laczházi Aranka. Budapest: L‘Harmattan, 2012.
Sigitas Parulskis (born 1965), the poet, playwright, novelist, and literary critic, is one of Lithuania’s most fêted and
influential contemporary writers. A graduate of Vilnius University in Lithuanian language and literature, Parulskis
has published articles in many of the country’s most prominent newspapers and journals. He is a translator of Russian,
American, and British literature and has worked as a lecturer in Creative Writing at Vilnius University, and currently
at the Vilnius Academy of Arts. His first book of poetry, All That Out of Longing, was published in 1990, and was
soon followed by several books of poetry and essays, a collection of short stories, and five novels. He is also the author
of several plays and theatre scripts. Works by Parulskis have won all the major Lithuanian literary awards. In 2002
the novel Three Seconds of Heaven was recognized as best book of the year and garnered Parulskis the Lithuanian
Writers’ Union Prize. In 2004, Parulskis received the National Prize in literature and the Lithuanian National Art and
Culture Award. He received the Person of Tolerance Award for 2012 for his most recent novel, Darkness & Company,
which tells the gripping story of a young Lithuanian man drawn into the events of the Holocaust in Lithuania.
Parulskis is singular among Lithuanian writers for the ironic, incisive, critical, and sometimes provocative style in
which he explores the traumas experienced by Lithuanians of his generation, who grew up under Soviet rule and
came of age during the country’s transition to independence. The most beautiful moments in his writing explore the
loneliness of being human and the brutal, primordial nature of reality with unsurpassed sensitivity and depth, and
a soft irony unique to this author. Works by Parulskis have been translated into Russian, English, Latvian, Finnish,
Polish, Czech, French, German, Greek, Swedish, Italian, and other languages.
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Photo by Algimantas Aleksandravičius
Giedra Radvilavičiūtė
Giedra Radvilavičiūtė (born in 1960) could probably be called the most fashionable Lithuanian writer. This is strange,
because she is one of the staunchest critics of the proliferation of poor-quality literature, and an outspoken advocate
of a higher quality of reading. After teaching literature in a school and briefly doing research work in the USA, her
writing career began in the late 1990s, when she started publishing essays in the cultural press. We might say that she
is the mother of the modern Lithuanian essay, which is now the most popular genre of prose; but few can compare
with her in terms of controlled style and structure. Her essays deal with everyday experiences, which are transformed
as if by magic into wonderful spectacles. She often discusses the situation of women, and questions various cultural
and social stereotypes of the woman. A self-confessed admirer of Vladimir Nabokov, she is quite frank and personal
in her literary work.
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Šiąnakt aš miegosiu
prie sienos (2010)
Radvilavičiūtė’s second collection of essays, shortlisted for the Book of the Year award in 2011, and a winner of the
European Union Prize for Literature in 2012, in some ways continues the themes and moods of the first collection.
The main character, if essays can be said to have characters at all, is a single and lonely woman of a certain age.
However, the first book dealt with relationships between men and women much more directly. This one is more
circumspect, and the emphasis is on loneliness, rather than on relationships. Loneliness is dreaded, desired, and
impossible to achieve. The central theme is complemented by a broad variety of other themes, easily discernible
references to mundane, everyday life, from brand names to Hollywood stars. It reveals her personal attitude towards
society and its problems. Some critics note that these themes make the book easy to read for a very wide audience,
hence its popularity. But it is not ‘popular’ literature. As writing, it is both complicated and skilfully controlled. The
doyenne of the essay keeps getting better at it.
Radvilavičiūtė, Giedra, Šiąnakt aš miegosiu prie sienos
Vilnius: Baltos lankos, 2010, 227 p.
www.baltoslankos.lt
Selected translations
English: Those Whom I Would Like to Meet Again, tr. by Elizabeth Novickas. Dalkey Archive Press, 2013.
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Photo by Algimantas Aleksandravičius
Baden Badeno nebus (2011)
Radzevičiūtė’s third book, a collection of short stories, contains, according to the author, ‘stories that the characters
would rather hide than tell’. Many of them border on the absurd, almost all of them are weirdly funny, some contain
grotesque details, and each one is surprising and unexpected. A boy is born with the hands of a thief. A girl is
born with the hands of a thief, but no one notices. A writer tattoos his name on his chest, so that after his death
his book can be bound with it. Set anywhere and everywhere in place and time, the stories do not just illustrate the
random absurdity of this world, they reach for something unexpected, weird and unaccountable in the core of human
existence.
Radzevičiūtė, Undinė, Baden Badeno nebus
Vilnius: Baltos lankos, 2011, 128 p.
www.baltoslankos.lt
Undinė Radzevičiūtė
Undinė Radzevičiūtė (born in 1967) is the most un-Lithuanian of Lithuanian writers. She maintains an aloof, almost
arrogant stance, if she ever honours the public with an appearance. She does not mix with the literary world, and
on the cover of her first book she wrote a piece openly criticising the Lithuanian language and anything that has
traditionally been considered a value of Lithuanian literature. However, she has much to offer for her iconoclastic
antics. She was among the first to suggest a broader, more cosmopolitan definition of the national identity, one that
includes neighbouring nations, which over history have had much cultural and genetic influence, even though she
does not really bother with definitions. Instead, she writes about things as they are: her language is peppered with
foreign words and Russian swearwords. An expert at brevity and black humour, she does not even need to break out
of the tradition of Lithuanian literature: she clearly never belonged there in the first place.
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Photo by Algimantas Aleksandravičius
Kitas pasaulis (2004)
This quite long book contains essays that RoRa wrote for a column in Lithuania’s main daily. Thematically, they cover
a very broad field, from travel impressions to current affairs to the present cultural situation. Many commentators
note that the book has a significant documentary value, as a chronicle of issues from times that are now almost
forgotten. But it is also a great read. RoRa is a wonderful master of style; he is elegant, witty, sometimes lyrical, and
always sharp and poignant, with just the right amount of irony and gentle mockery for anyone who thinks too much
of themselves.
Rastauskas, Rolandas, Kitas pasaulis
Vilnius: Apostrofa, 2004, 559 p.
www.apostrofa.lt
Rolandas Rastauskas
Rolandas Rastauskas (born in 1954) is a much-loved character in Lithuanian literary circles, known affectionately
as RoRa, the original dandy. He studied English at university, debuted as a playwright in the 1970s, and published
several collections of poetry in the 1980s. He has won the National Prize for his essays, of which he has published
several collections, often reprinted from various newspapers and magazines that he has written for. However, theatre
has always been his true vocation, and as well as writing plays, he is also a director and a performer, often producing
smaller-scale, but nonetheless very impressive and innovative projects. He currently teaches at Klaipėda University,
and continues to be everyone’s favourite literary character.
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Photo by Paulius Gasiūnas
Kristina Sabaliauskaitė
Kristina Sabaliauskaitė (born 1974) is currently the most-widely read living Lithuanian fiction author with three
number one bestsellers, massive print runs and such an avid reader admiration that the Vilnius Tourism Information
Center has introduced guided tours following the paths of her historical novels, Silva Rerum and its sequel, Silva
Rerum II. She comes from an academic background (has a PhD in History of Art) but also honed her quill for a
number of years reporting as a foreign correspondent from London, hence her writing is a well-paced storytelling,
visual, sensual, multilayered and dense with cultural references though at the same time engaging and spiked with
sharp irony. An account of the life of a noble family in 17th-18th century Lithuania, both Silva rerum novels have been
praised by cultural historians and acclaimed by critics as “literary events” and “a new page in Lithuanian literature”.
Both became Lithuanian Book of the Year in 2009 and 2011. Among her other accolades is also a Saint Christopher –
a municipal award for distinguished merits to Vilnius, for depiction of her native city in literature. Urban identity,
memory, and history are reoccurring themes – whether she writes about the Baroque in the Silva Rerum novels or
flits between lost Polish, Jewish or Soviet Vilnius, contemporary Paris, or London (where she is based) in her third
book, a short story collection Danielius Dalba & Other Stories.
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Silva Rerum (2008)
Silva Rerum II (2010)
Silva Rerum – or Latin for “forest of things”– was a family chronicle filled in by each passing generation, popular in
17th-18th century Lithuania and Poland. The novel, set in 1659-1667 and conceived as a magical documentary of
Baroque life with the means of a sensual story leads the reader through the labyrinth of history amidst the ruins of
war, religious struggles and urban decadence of 17th century Lithuania, after the Deluge – Muscovite and Cossack
invasion in 1655. The story of the noble Narwoysz family and the coming of age of the twins, Kazimierz and Urszula,
their lust for life and quest for God is featured against the background of cultural history: Cartesian dualism, the art
of rhetorics, the history of law and of Vilnius University, and everyday life of nuns in a Bernardine convent.
Silva Rerum II is an account of the years 1707-1710, the Great Northern War, the Great Plague, the Great Famine,
the lavish luxury and the deadly hunger, the inevitability of the fate and the power of an accident, and, of course,
the lives of the next generation of the Narwoysz. The history of medicine and music and the predestination theory
in philosophy are subjects featured in the sequel. A “memory puzzle,” it reveals the fates of the previous Narwoysz
generation, though some of them are such that the hand which is to write them down into a Silva Rerum starts to
tremble...
Sabaliauskaitė, Kristina, Silva Rerum
Vilnius: Baltos lankos, 2012, 286 p.
www.baltoslankos.lt
Sabaliauskaitė, Kristina, Silva Rerum II
Vilnius: Baltos lankos, 2012, 294 p.
www.baltoslankos.lt
Selected translations
Latvian: Silva Rerum, tr. by Dace Meiere.Rīga: Zvaigzne ABC, I d. 2011, II d. 2012.
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Photo by Algimantas Aleksandravičius
Mėlynbarzdžio vaikai (2008)
Translated into German by Cornelius Hell, and winning the Human Rights Book Award in 2010, this is a very
interesting literary achievement. On one hand, it is a fictionalised autobiography, containing quite a lot of features
that are typical of a great number of Lithuanians. The story begins in Siberia, where two young Lithuanian children
are growing up with a deported mother and a local father. After the mother’s death, which looks like suicide, the
children go back to live with their relatives, in a homeland they have never seen before. They somehow manage to
grow up there, in spite of the cold reception from the people and the community, but it does not end happily. There is
a third child, who remains in Russia and grows up a very different person. The novel is written in what at first appear
to be numbered chapters, but later they turn out to be numbered speakers: the mother (and later her ghost), the girl,
the boy, and the lost baby. Each has their own perspective on both the social context and the inner, deeper core of
what makes a human being human.
Renata Šerelytė
Šerelytė, Renata, Mėlynbarzdžio vaikai
Vilnius: Alma littera, 2011, 214 p.
www.almalittera.lt
Selected translations
German: Blaubarts Kinder, tr. by Cornelius Hell, Klagenfurt / Celovec: Wieser, 2010.
Renata Šerelytė (born in 1970) is one of the most widely translated Lithuanian authors. Her books are available in
German, Russian, Swedish and Georgian. She debuted in 1995 with a collection of short stories, and since then she
has written almost 20 books. Coming from a small town herself, she often writes about daily life in small towns, which
in her books is bleak and dreary, but also sweet and nostalgic. Her stories and her characters contain autobiographical
details, and her greatest achievements are generally stylistic: she is a true master at crafting sentences. Šerelytė has
also written several popular books for children, and is one of the few Lithuanian writers who also writes historical
fantasy stories for teenagers and young adults. Her published books include a collection of poetry, essays and a few
plays. She is also very highly thought of as a reviewer and critic.
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Photo by Algimantas Aleksandravičius
Išteku (2003)
Agnė Žagrakalytė was already a well-known presence in Lithuanian poetry when her first collection was published.
It won the First Book Competition, which is held annually by the Lithuanian Writers’ Union, and since this is quite
a standard way to publish a first book, especially poetry, we have to wonder why it did not happen sooner. The
poems in the book are only a fraction of what was available from various anthologies and almanachs, including
the English-language collection Six Young Lithuanian Poets, compiled by Kerry Shawn Keys. Išteku, which is a pun
that can mean both ‘I’m getting married’ and ‘I’m flowing out’, was very warmly received by the literary world, and
most of the reviews focused on the feminine aspects of the book, some even inferring mythological subtexts. Many
commentators also noted an undercurrent of religious and spiritual reflection.
Agnė Žagrakalytė
Žagrakalytė, Agnė, Išteku
Vilnius: Lietuvos rašytojų sąjungos leidykla, 2003, 79 p.
www.rsleidykla.lt
Selected translations
English: Artistic cloning, tr. by Jonas Zdanys, Chicago: Virtual Artists Collective, 2010.
Agnė Žagrakalytė (born in 1979) made her debut in 1996, and was already acknowledged as having promise, even
before publishing her first book Išteku (2003). As a poetess, she is very feminine, although she has conflicting feelings
about being called a feminist. Womanhood, including, but not limited to, female sexuality, is the most prominent
theme in her poetry, but it is explorative and reflective, instead of declarative. She is probably the most fun-loving
Lithuanian poet, and her writing is always witty and ironic, although sometimes it veers towards black humour,
sarcasm and cruel mockery. The woman of her poems is a very sensual, physical creature, who is in tune with her
surroundings, but also highly competitive towards women, and who playfully torments men.
She was trained as a teacher, but worked mostly as an editor of cultural publications and publications for youth.
Since moving to Brussels with her family she has been a full-time mother, but she has kept writing. Her second book
of poetry appeared in 2008. Her poems were published in 2010 in an English collection entitled Artistic Cloning
(translated by Jonas Zdanys), and she has started writing short essays for the Lithuanian cultural press. Rumour has
it that there is also a novel in the pipeline.
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Lithuanian Literature
Translation Grant Programme
Translation grants for books and sample translations are available twice a year (deadlines for applying are 1st
April and 1st October) for those who are interested in translating and publishing books by Lithuanian authors.
The International Cultural Programme Centre invites applicants to submit applications to participate in the
Translation Grant Programme (hereafter the Programme). The purpose of the Programme is to promote the
translation into foreign languages of works (books or other publications) in Lithuanian. The aim of the Programme
is to encourage foreign translators and publishers to translate and publish works in Lithuanian by promoting the
translation of longer works as well as sample extracts.
Publishers may apply only for partial or total coverage of the cost of the translation. Grants will be allocated for the
translation of original works of literature, fiction, children’s literature, publications on the cultural heritage, or the
humanities (philosophy, literary criticism, non-fiction, history and other fields) as well as for the translation of other
important books and publications. Translators may apply for sample translation programme.
Documents needed for applying for sample translation grant:
• filled application form,
• short cover letter justifying the proposed work,
• translators qualifications (e.g. CV, previous translations),
• the owner of the rights agreement for translating proposed work,
• the copy of proposed text might be asked separately (maximum 1 author sheet or 40 000 signs (with space) for prose
and 120 lines for poetry).
Applications may only be submitted by e-mail to books@koperator.lt.
For further information, please contact the Literature Projects Unit of the International Cultural Programme Centre
by e-mail: books@koperator.lt
More information: www.booksfromlithuania.lt
The deadlines for applying are 1st April and 1st October. All applications will be considered by an independent
selection committee consisting of five Lithuanian literature experts.
Documents needed for applying for grant:
• filled application form,
• a copy of the contract with the owner of the rights,
• a copy of the contract with the translator,
• translators qualifications (e.g. CV, previous translations),
• a brief presentation of the publishing house,
• a short cover letter justifying the proposed work
• publishers catalogue is also welcome
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Notes
Notes
Best books from Lithuania
Texts: Gabrielė Gailiūtė
(text about Kristina Sabaliauskaitė by Baltos lankos,
text about Sigitas Parulskis by the International Cultural Programme Centre)
Editor of English text: Joseph Everatt
Design: PRIM PRIM
Photos: Algimantas Aleksandravičius, Algimantas Žižiūnas,
Paulius Gasiūnas, Vladas Braziūnas
Printed in Lithuania by Petro ofsetas
Circulation: 800
•
Supported by
The Ministry of Culture of The Republic of Lithuania
•
Published by
The International Cultural Programme Centre programme “Books from Lithuania“
www.koperator.lt | www.cultureguide.lt | www.booksfromlithuania.lt
ISBN 978-609-8015-40-9
best-books-virselis.indd 2
9/12/13 10:50 AM

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